Page 47 of Tempted By an Unconventional Lady
Charlotte’s heart jumped again. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all. Or perhaps he could see the fury flame within her.
“Whatever for?” she asked, her tone somewhat tempered but her chin jutting out in her determination to stay angry at him.
“For leaving without saying goodbye. The four of us became something of friends, did we not?”
“We did.” Charlotte could feel the hard ice in her chest beginning to melt. It was so easy for him to reach her, and try as she might to now allow it, her heart refused to listen to her head. “I must admit that I was surprised you would do such a thing. I had thought you a gentleman.”
“Charlotte,” Uncle Elliot said again, and again, the duke chuckled.
“It’s all right. I deserve it; she is quite correct. I feel bad for leaving so suddenly, but I assure you that it wasn’t my choice. Lord Stanhope had some urgent business to attend to, and neither of us had time to say proper goodbyes.”
“And do you always do what Lord Stanhope tells you to?” she demanded.
“Only when I am his guest,” the duke retorted.
“As is quite correct,” Uncle Elliot said.
Charlotte stared up at him. Her whole body seemed to vibrate in his presence, like some inner part of her was driving her forward. She did everything she could to hold herself back, to not reach out and touch him. She lowered her eyes, for his gaze was too much, and instead she settled on his clavicle, just visible beneath the collar of his shirt. It was in desperate need of a kiss, of the gentle caress of a lady’s lips.
My lips.
“Are you enjoying the play?” the duke asked.
Again, pulled out of her thoughts, Charlotte looked up in surprise, licking her lips as the inappropriate thoughts died away. “It is… yes,” she replied. She couldn’t for the life of her remember what the play was about. She could remember nothing.
“And yet it does not instill a great deal of emotion in you,” he teased, “for otherwise you would have more to say.”
“It is… I have no idea how they are going to get themselves out of this pickle,” she said, echoing Elliot’s earlier words in the hope that neither gentleman would notice. She hadno such luck, for they both laughed—her uncle as he recognized his own words, the duke as he recognized her lack of anything of substance to say.
“I’m sure they will,” he replied. “Isn’t that a protagonist’s lot?”
She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from smirking. It felt, at times, like they were one and the same person, their thoughts entwined and matching. She went to say so, to note their similarities, when the gong sounded, announcing the beginning of the second act.
“Ah, I suppose we must return to our seats,” he said.
“I suppose we must.” She did not break her stare.
“But, one question, my lady.”
“Go on.”
“I wondered if it might be all right if I called on you this week at some point.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, but her smile grew all the same.
He wants to call on me!
“Yes,” she said. “I suppose that will be acceptable.”
“She means agreeable,” her uncle said, stepping in. That was indeed what she had meant, but she had definitely not intended to say it. She didn’t want the duke to think she actually invited his company, no matter how much she craved it.
“I know,” the duke replied with a wink before disappearing through the crowds.
Charlotte and her uncle returned to their seats and for the second act, Charlotte found herself enjoying it immensely. Even Uncle Elliot noticed.
“Your mood seems so much lighter,” he said with a mocking eyebrow raised. “I wonder why that could be.”
“It’s that the second half is better,” Charlotte barked back in a whisper so as not to disturb the other guests. “The acting is much improved.”
